


Public Announcement

by aceholmes



Series: Johnlock Oneshots [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 15:59:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1654277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceholmes/pseuds/aceholmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's time for that wedding blog post....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Writing

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm a sucker for johnlock weddings, alright!  
> I should tell you now, I never beta or britpick my work, because a) I'm too lazy to get a beta, and b) I'm british, I don't NEED a britpicker.  
> This is really short and gross. I'm going to get swallowed up in school soon, but I just like to keep on writing.  
> As always, comments and criticism is always welcome (as long and you're nice, which I'm sure you will be).  
> Also yeah, yeah I know it's not a proper oneshot, it just made sense to add another chapter.

'Really, John? ' _A Study In Wedding Bells_ '?'

John's shoulder, the one that hadn't been torn open by a bullet, was crushed down by the weight of Sherlock's head. His chin poked sharply into his collarbone, and his curls muffled his left ear and ticked his cheek like curious feathers. In fact, the detective almost resembled an oversized parrot, and would no doubt start squawking a bizarre yet undoubtably adorable rant about the use of wedding bells or another unfortunate wedding tradition.

Sherlock had been all for tradition when they'd first started planning; he'd dove into the flower arrangements and other such nonsense with such an over enthusiastic zeal that the doctor had wanted to check him for some kind of head wound. That had been settled now, though, and although his cold exterior had still melted a little, he'd suddenly decided that a couple as unconventional as them needed the most abnormal wedding possible. Which had been a fantastic idea, since they'd never done anything normally in their lives, and it would be rather uncharacteristic of them to have a textbook wedding.

Although, perhaps Sherlock hadn't factored that maybe not every business they encountered would be as flexible. Or as accepting of his precise demands.

Turning to face his fiancé, John pouted. He'd known Sherlock would hate the name; it was part of the reason he'd chosen it.

'What's wrong with it?'

'Wedding bells? The pathetic wedding tradition first used in Celtic times to ward of evil spirits and bless newlyweds? I know we've faced a lot of weird things, but I'm confident demons are not one of them. Why would we be needed wedding bells?'

John just blinked.

'Alright, Sherlock. Firstly, what the hell are you going on about? Secondly, they're supposed to announce the union of the happy couple and I /think they're actually quite sweet/, and thirdly, it's just a figure of speech.'

Sherlock placed a perfectly formed hand on John's other shoulder, leaning in closer to read the screen in front of them.

'My God, are you going to publish that?'

John ground his teeth, sighing. He'd never expected any less from him.

'Would you like to write it instead?'

Sherlock just snorted, as if writing a simple blog entry to announce their engagement was so mind-numbingly beneath him that he'd actually lose intelligence through doing it.

'I don't even see why we need to announce it; everyone we like knows anyway. And the whole of Scotland Yard.'

It had been two months since Sherlock had popped the question. One month since John had finally gotten used to calling his boyfriend his _fiancé_.

So, it was May now. By the time they were walking up the aisle, Britain's wayward summer could well have hit. That usual suffocating air that clung to your skin, as possessive as his own war memories, with no air conditioning to ease the pain. John was used to fighting Afghanistan, in full military uniform, but he always hated British summers. Though it was hard to feel any sense of dread at all when the sunny days acted as a countdown to Watson-Holmes.

'It was you who suggested it!' John hissed, throwing his hands up in protest. 'Do you want me to write an entry or not?'

Nothing but a thoughtful silence answered him, until Sherlock's baritone finally broke through.

'Oh, go on. It'll stop the annoying questions, I suppose.'

For all his reluctance, Sherlock radiated a careful excitement; it was painfully obvious that that thought of everyone knowing gave him a thrill.

John grinned, shaking his head gently.

'Are you going to watch me type, or make me a cup of tea?'

'Hm, watch you type.'

John leant his head back, so that he could look up into his detective's gleaming eyes.

'You useless lump.'

'Oh, you love it really. Having someone to look after.'

The doctor just chuckled, bringing his eyes back to the laptop.

 

* * *

 

_'Hi all,_

_Things have been pretty quiet at the moment, I'm afraid. There was an interesting case in an art studio last week; Sherlock solved it pretty quickly, but I'll write it up soon anyway._

_I've got some amazing news, though! Admittedly, it hasn't been as much of a secret as we'd intended it to be, since at least the whole of NSY knows, but apparently dealing with mystery at one end of the job is too much for us to handle._

_So, most of you will be winning a bit of money, because- and it feels very weird to be saying this- Sherlock and I are engaged!_

_I know!_

_Not just engaged for a case, or anything like that. We're properly engaged, and have been for two months. Typically, we're not waiting around, so the wedding's next month. Getting married so soon after the engagement seemed like a good idea at the time.'_

 

'Can I write something?'

Sherlock's rich tones came rumbling from behind John, as his fingers hovered lightly over the keyboard. His fiancé's arms were wrapped around his shoulders, his elegant fingers laced together on his collarbone.

'Hang on, what happened to that tea I though you were making me?'

'Eh, I was just bored of watching you type. You're so painfully slow.' the Holmes scoffed in mock exasperation (although, he'd had to stop himself from placing his hands over John's and forcing them to move quicker, like a puppeteer).

John growled. 'Well, you can write it then, if you're so tech savvy.'

'John, there is a difference between being tech savvy and being able to type at a speed in which the movement is actually visible to the human eye. Anyway, that's what I just asked. Can I write something?'

'What?'

Sherlock must have rolled his eyes, although John couldn't see.

'I've said it twice now. To think I thought your observational skills were improving.'

'You, you want to write something?' John stammered, his mouth going dry. What could he even want to write? Did he trust Sherlock to not mention 'sex holidays' again?

'I thought you didn't want to write it.'

'Evidently, I have changed my mind. Besides I wouldn't be writing all of it.'

'Well. I supposed, if you want.'

Frowning, he turned to face his lanky flatmate, only noticing how close they were when his chin brushed against the luxurious fabric of Sherlock's purple shirt. His favourite shirt, of course. It wasn't the original one anymore, that one had been ruined during his staged suicide, but it was equally as enticing as long as Sherlock was the one wearing it.

'Sherlock, you're not going to write anything ridiculous, are you?'

Sherlock snorted. 'Why would I want to do that?'

John raised a pale eyebrow. 'Does the word 'sex holiday' ring any bells?'

One perfectly muscular shoulder rose and fell, creasing the purple silk.

'I was bitter.'

'I know. You're not going to write anything too graphic though, are you?'

He only got a chuckle in reply, as his laptop was swiped away and carried off out of his reach.

Sherlock Holmes, consulting pain in the arse.

 


	2. Posting

Hi all,

Things have been pretty quiet at the moment, I'm afraid. There was an interesting case in an art studio last week; Sherlock solved it pretty quickly, but I'll write it up soon anyway. I've got some amazing news, though! Admittedly, it hasn't been as much of a secret as we'd intended it to be, since at least the whole of NSY knows, but apparently dealing with mystery at one end of the job is too much for us to handle.

So, most of you will be winning a bit of money, because- and it feels very weird to be saying this- Sherlock and I are engaged!

I know!

Not just engaged for a case, or anything like that. We're properly engaged, and have been for two months. Typically, we're not waiting around, so the wedding's next month. Getting married so soon after the engagement seemed like a good idea at the time. - John

 

I've confiscated the laptop before John begins to act like his usual, sloppily romantic self. I'm sure you all heard enough of that the last time around. Though hopefully things are a little different now.

I am eternally grateful for John Watson. Those of you who attended his last wedding (I'm sorry John, I don't mean to make it seem like you've had an abundance of spouses) may remember my speech. All of which remains completely and explicitly correct. I continue to be the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant and all-round obnoxious arsehole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet, and John continues to be the bravest, kindest, and wisest human being I have ever had the good fortune of knowing- of loving, in fact.

To put it bluntly, I am unsure about how well I would have faired if I had not met John, or whether I'd have even lived long enough to suffer. And although I've never been a believer in weddings, or any form of deity in which to marry under, I find myself believing in this frankly ridiculous ceremony and an unsigned form with our names on.

I realise that my reasoning behind censoring John's drivel might seem a little hypocritical now. I'm sure he'll remind me of that when he reads this. Oh, I supposed that'll cause an argument. I might have to make some tea to butter him up so he doesn't kick off.

Of course, we'll still be taking cases. For the sake of our relationship, I urge to send them to us. Who knows what will happen to us if the work dries up. Maybe he'll give in and shoot me. We all know he wouldn't be the first. -SH

 

**Comments**

 

 **John Watson:** Jesus, Sherlock!

 

**Mike Stamford: Congrats, mate!**

 

 **John Watson:** Cheers, Mike. You should get into the matchmaking business, earn a couple extra quid.

 

 **Harry Watson:** Do I get to meet him, now?


End file.
